I don't acknowledge his existence. Ever. "I, um… I ran into him last night on my way to bed." Why do I feel the need to explain myself? "I was at the pool. He was stocking up on his booze when I went upstairs." I attempt to put up a front, making myself as disgusted by him as he treats me.
The fire creeping up my neck tells a different story as the memory of his proximity floods my brain.
King studies me longer than I'd like, then nods. "Let's get you all caffeinated up. Then, we'll join the girls outside. The others won't be back for at least two more hours."
God, I love this woman. My shoulders sag in relief, the tension I was holding melting away. If Wes hadn't married her, I totally would. Dropping the topic, she hooks her arm around mine and leads me deeper into the industrial-sized kitchen.
I avoided Lilly all day.Avoid in the sense of making sure we were not alone. On the one hand, I itched to hear what she had found out about me—Marcus and me. No! Me. There was no Marcusand me. But on the same hand (not even the other hand), the idea of her revealing her knowledge to me made my stomach roll, a clench that forced me to swallow hard. I don't get queasy easily, but this…situation took my appetite. Dinner was one of my best performances to date. I ate, complimented the chef, swallowed the tasteless but delicious looking meal, smiled, forced the bile down whenever my best friend made eye contact, and didn't look around to potentially find Marcus lurking in the corner, ready to hate me some more. He was never at dinner or any other mealtime. Why was I waiting for him? It was Oscar-worthy. But once everyone finished up, I excused myself under the pretense of catching up on sleep.
I wasn't ready to talk. Yet.
It's well past midnight,and I'm lying in my bed, scrolling through my various social media accounts.
I haven't been online much since leaving New York, mainly because I am avoiding nosy questions. I sent my new number to the friends I trust not to hand it over to Collin. The rest, mostly business acquaintances, either got emails or (the more casual ones) messages via social media.
Getting up late has inevitably resulted in not being tired when it is time to hit the pillow. Propping my phone on my stomach, I stare at the blank screen forever. I want to check what everyone is up to—also, what they have heard about my sudden departure. Eventually, I cave to curiosity and log into my apps.
I've just started commenting on a friend's post, which shared a picture at my favorite restaurant, when a knock interrupts my typing.
I don't ask who's there. "Come in, Lilly."
A colony of ants is marching up my stomach walls. I watch the gap between the frame and the door widen, and Lilly's face appears. "Can I come in?"
And with those four words, the suffocating anxiety turns to a faint prickle in the back of my head. This is Lilly: my best friend, victim ofThe Babysitter, girl who became a billionaire heiress overnight, and seasoned hacker. I've never considered her anything but the girl I met at Butler's. None of the attributes change who she is as a person. Why would she treat me differently? She hasn't. That's not who we are.
Last night's episode instantly seems unnecessary.
Was it, though?It felt…right. Experiencing the familiar sting, separating myself.
I curl my upper lip between my teeth, shoving all the questions and doubts to the back of my mind. Smiling, I pat the mattress next to me.
Lilly approaches slowly. Is she waiting for me to change my mind? Send her away? She lowers herself next to me and, after a moment of hesitation, leans against the headboard. Her gaze locks on something on the far wall. "I'm sorry about yesterday. How I sprung it on you."
I mimic her position, shoulder to shoulder, chewing the inside of my cheek. In my peripheral vision, I notice her thumb flicks against the other four fingers of her hand. She is a nervous mess. The tightness in my shoulders lessens.
"How long?" My tone is slightly above a whisper. I don't have to ask in a full sentence; she understands the meaning.
She inhales and holds her breath before she confesses, "Since Marcus disappeared for the first time."
Almost exactly six years.
"Why did you never say anything?"
Her fingers twist together, halting her tic. "It wasn't my place."
And this is why this girl is my best friend.
"So, Marcus hasn't told you?" I need to make sure.
She smirks, peering over at me. "Do you really think he would ever share something regarding his personal life? He works for George."
Warmth spreads through me, and I crack a smile. "You have a point there."
I'm scared to ask how much she uncovered, but I can't avoid it forever. "What exactly did henottell you?"
Lilly snuggles closer, leaning her temple against my shoulder. I shift and reach for her hand, interlacing our fingers. Sweat begins to pool between our palms. The wait for her to start talking is pure agony, but this isn't a topic that can be rushed for either of us.
"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to bring it up, ask you why you never talk back to Marcus. You are one of the strongest women I've ever met, but with him…"